Dedicated to P. G. Wodehouse

Some weeks ago Madame Eulalie inaugurated a Books section, which included some interesting extended dedications from Wodehouse's early books. This made me wonder about people who had in turn dedicated their books to him, and I started hunting around for those. What follows is a list, most likely incomplete, of books dedicated to Wodehouse during his lifetime, with links to online copies when available, and to reliable sources when not. I will probably update this list as new examples come to my notice.

A few of these, like Agathe Christie, are well known, while others I had never heard of. Some of Wodehouse's personal and professional relationships with other authors, like Ian Hay or Gerald Fairlie, are documented in his biographies or correspondence, and attested by the dedications themselves. In other cases one may assume that the dedication was inspired by a general admiration of his books, without a personal connection.

1912 Leslie Havergal Bradshaw, The Right Sort (see R. Usborne, "New P. G. Wodehouse Material"):

To P. G. Wodehouse, the right sort.

———

1925 Edgar Wallace, A King by Night:

To my friend P. G. Wodehouse

———

1925 Edgar Wallace, The Gaunt Stranger (see W. O. G. Lofts and D. Adley, British Bibliography of Edgar Wallace):

To my friend P. G. Wodehouse

———

1930 Compton Mackenzie, April Fools:

To P. G. WODEHOUSE

My dear Plummy,
A short while ago you told me you were re-reading Poor Relations. With that in mind I am venturing to dedicate the sequel to you. But, of course, the real reason for writing your name on this page is that I want to be registered as one of your most devoted readers and to sign myself in admiration

Yours gratefully,

Compton Mackenzie

———

1931 Gerald Fairlie, The Man with Talent:

Dedication

For P. G. Wodehouse because of many happy hours with Plum before ever I knew him.

———

1934 Ian Hay, David and Destiny:

To

my friend

P. G. Wodehouse

under whose remorseless goadings I have at last contrived to finish this book after seven years of labour grievously interrupted by periodical excursions (thrice in his company) into other and more frivolous fields of endeavour

———

1937 Anthony Berkeley, Trial and Error:

To P. G. Wodehouse

———

1960 Agatha Christie, Hallowe'en Party:

To P. G. Wodehouse——
whose books and stories have brightened my life for many years. Also, to show my pleasure in his having been kind enough to tell me that he enjoys my books.

———

1970 Douglas Enefer, The Deadline Dolly:

To P. G. Wodehouse
for the unending pleasure
of all his books

"P.G.W." in the Malvernian

The Malvernian is the school magazine of Malvern College in Malvern, Worcestershire, England (not to be confused with Malvern House, which P. G. Wodehouse attended between 1891 and 1893). A complete run of digitized copies is available at the College's website here.

The April 1901 issue contains a humorous article on country cricket, signed "P.G.W." Here it is in its entirety:

COUNTRY CRICKET.

"A chiel's amang ye takin' notes."

At last the task is completed! After a searching analysis we have divided country cricket into its component parts; reduced it, in fact, to the level of a formula. It has taken us many a summer holiday, but the deed is done, and we are at length able, with a heart swelling with proper pride, to offer the following facts for family consumption, with the assurance that they are not only scientifically correct, but wholly free from alkaloid and all other such deleterious ingredients.

To proceed, then. The first essential item in the village team is The Wag, the second, "Charles, his friend." The Wag is in nine cases out of ten the local Doctor—why, we cannot say, unless it be that a constant attendance at beds of sickness promotes a cheerful frame of mind.

In the event of the Doctor scratching for this post, the Curate is generally enrolled: though he is not quite so efficient as the disciple of Æsculapius, in that his jokes are apt to be less broad. Moreover, he will probably have certain scruples as to the exchanging of airy badinage with chance passers-by, the which should be the Wag's chief source of waggishness.

We now come to "Charles, his friend." He is an indispensable item. It must not be thought that, because his conversational powers are limited to a raucous laugh, he is therefore no help to the conversation. Far from it. A raucous laugh is a very present help in time of trouble, and what the Wag would do without Charles, we shudder to think.

Next the Captain. This onerous position generally falls to the lot of the Curate, the poor man being, in cases of emergency, obliged to sustain the posts of Captain and Wag simultaneously. The Captain may be distinguished by the profanum vulgus by the fact that he goes on to bowl first, and (please read this slowly and thoughtfully: it is an epigram) never comes off whether he comes off or not. Men may come and men may go at the other end with all the variety of a kaleidoscope, but he goes on for ever. It is, perhaps, superfluous to add that he can only bowl with wind and hill in his favour. When it is the turn of his side to bat, he naturally goes in first, "to give his men confidence."

Finally, the Hero. Every village team has its hero. He is generally a man who has failed ignominiously to justify his inclusion in a weak "Colts" Eleven, and is for that reason an object of veneration to all. He goes in first with the Captain, and shares the trundling with him, The rest of the team may be ranked as "villagers and retainers," after the fashion of Stageland.

P.G.W.

Naturally one wonders if "P.G.W." stands for P. G. Wodehouse. More precisely, if it stands for Pelham Grenville Wodehouse the humorist, because even "P. G. Wodehouse" in this case wouldn't narrow it down enough, as we will see below.

Summer Lightning: a variorum edition

Summer Lightning (variorum edition, PDF)

Summer Lightning (Fish Preferred in the US) is the sixth variorum edition I've completed. As in previous occasions, it benefited greatly from the work done by the Madame Eulalie team to edit and publish the magazine versions of this novel a couple of years ago.

There is not much to say in this introduction. Beyond it size and the number of footnotes needed, Summer Lightning has not been a particularly challenging text to edit, since the changes are straightforward and the novel did not undergo any major revisions. The apparatus shows that most of these are reduced to simple deletions in the American magazine version (Collier's). The rest are mainly slight improvements in wording made to the British magazine (Pall Mall), which I take to be the earliest redaction published. One exception of interest involves a few changes clearly made to fix a minor contradiction in the narrative, concerning Sue Brown's arrival at Blandings and her first meeting with Ronnie Fish.

I've also taken the opportunity to update all the variorum editions completed so far, with minor corrections. The latest versions are always downloadable from the Editions page on the right.

Alphonse the Page

The annotations to A Damsel in Distress offer two possible explanations for this short exchange between George Bevan and Maud's page Albert:

"'Ullo!" said the youth.
"Hullo, Alphonso!" said George.
"My name's not Alphonso."
"Well, you be very careful or it soon may be."

The initial suggestion was that this was a reference to W. S. Gilbert's poem "The Modest Couple," first published in Fun on August 8, 1868, which Wodehouse knew well and quoted elsewhere. However, there doesn't seem to be too much common ground for connecting Gilbert's character with Albert: his Alphonso is not a stereotypical page, but a young suitor full of self-confidence.

As an alternative I brought up a scene in Dickens' Nicholas Nickelby, where a boy who "carried plain Bill in his face and figure" and is in the service of a lady of quality is re-christened "Alphonse" and dressed in the many-buttoned uniform of a page. This is exactly the situation Albert is in in Wodehouse's novel, justifying George's warning. At the time I thought this was conclusive.

There is more to it though, because lately I've found out that Dickens' passage is not alone. In summary, just as "Jane" was a generic name for housemaids, there appears to have been a tradition of renaming pages as "Alphonse/Alphonso." This may be first documented in Nicholas Nickleby but extends even into the twentieth century. In what follows I will put together the traces of evidence I have collected so far.